"I thought it was quite ten days. And Dr. Roelofsz comes so seldom too.... Yes, that chair by the window ... has been empty now a whole week.... I thought it was ten days.... It's cold, raw weather, isn't it?... I don't feel it in here.... But, oh, even if that gets better ... it will take a very long time ... and Mr. Takma won't come again this winter!..."
Her dry old eyes did not weep, but her cracked voice wept. Ina could not find much more to say, but she did not want to go away yet. She had come with the children, in the hope of hearing something perhaps at Grandmamma's.... She still did not know. She still knew nothing; and there was so much to know. There was first the great Something, that which had happened sixty years ago: Grandmamma must know about it, but she dared not broach the Something at Grandmamma's, afraid lest she should be touching upon the very Past. If it was anything, then it might make the old woman ill, might cause her sudden death.... No, Ina looked forward in particular to seeing any one who might call that afternoon, to having talks in the morning-room downstairs, for there were more things to know: how much Elly had come into; and whether Aunt Ottilie had also come in for her share.... All this was hovering in vagueness: she could not get to the bottom of it; she must manage to get to the bottom of it that afternoon.... So she sat on quietly; and the old lady, who did not like being alone, thought it pleasant when she made an occasional remark. But, when it lasted too long before any one else came, Ina got up, said good-bye, went downstairs, chatted a bit with Anna and even then did not go, but sat down in the morning-room and said:
"Sit down too, Anna."
And the old servant sat down respectfully on the edge of a chair; and they talked about the old man:
"Mrs. Elly is well-off, now," said Ina. "Don't you know how much the old gentleman left?"
But Anna knew nothing, merely thought—and said so with a little wink—that Mrs. Ottilie would be sure to get something too. But there was a ring at the door; and it was Stefanie de Laders, tripping along very nervously:
"Doesn't Mamma know yet?" she whispered, after Anna had returned to the kitchen.
"No," said Ina, "Grandmamma doesn't know, but she sits looking so mournfully at Mr. Takma's empty chair."
"Is there no one with her?"
"No, only the companion."